


It Was An Honest Mistake, Really

by Spadefish



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Accidental Vore, M/M, Macro/Micro, Shrinking, Vomiting, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 07:42:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7305739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spadefish/pseuds/Spadefish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A counterpart to I'll Be Fine Indeed, as commissioned by an anonymous user! :) Dirk builds a shrink ray and Jake wants to try it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Was An Honest Mistake, Really

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I'll Be Fine, Indeed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6194434) by [Spadefish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spadefish/pseuds/Spadefish). 



> Just in case the tags weren't clear enough, this is a vore fic!! People get eaten, and there's some vomiting and some not nice descriptors in here. No one gets hurt or dies, but it's kind of gross!

You are, for the most part, rather fond of Dirk’s inventions. Not everything he puts together is particularly useful, per se, but the vast majority of them are fun in one way or another(and you would know, because you’re going to play with _all_ of them despite any and all warnings he may give you). Sometimes he’ll toil away working on something for weeks and try to scrap it. Scrap it! You make a habit of combing through the stuff he throws out so that you can keep the fun bits.

Some of his inventions he presents proudly to you. This is one of them.

He places what looks like an alien pistol would look like into your hand, if aliens had pistols. The body of the gun is a sleek and glossy white, and it glints in a manner almost opalescent under the ceiling light as you roll it around in your hands and test the weight of it. It’s lighter than a gun of this should be, but that goes without saying. It’s obviously not a gun, because guns already exist and it would be pointless and stupid for Dirk to build a regular gun. Heck, you could build your own gun. You don’t need him for that! Further examining the object(weapon?), you note that where this unusually long barrel should open up to allow a bullet through, there is instead a small strip of some translucent material that allows you to see some of the intricate machinery within. 

You look it over a couple of times, and sadly surmise that this is probably not a laser gun. It’s probably not an alien pistol, either. You do want to know what it is, though, so you return your attention to Dirk. He’s poorly masking his expectant expression.

“So,” you ask, “What is it?”

“Shrink ray,” comes his simple and smug response. “No catches or conditions, exactly like the movies. It’s safe- I’ve tested it- and it’s reversible.” 

Well, hot diggity! If that isn’t an exciting surprise. Like hell you’re not going to make use of that right away.

“Oooh, Dirk- You’ve gotta let me try it, pretty please! I’ll be careful, I promise, you can put me on the table and I promise I won’t jump off or anything-”

He cuts you short with a chuckle, his lips twitching up into a wry smile as he retrieves the gun from you. You’re grinning like an idiot, watching him as he carefully rests his finger against the guard and then slides it up against the trigger. 

“Hold still,” he instructs. You do so.

“This shouldn’t hurt. Tell me if it does.”

“You got it, Strider!” You grin at him, feeling phantom insects flutter about in your stomach. Dirk regards you for a moment, motionless, and then he trains the gun on you and pulls the trigger. A low hum starts up in the body of the gun, and it escalates in pitch and volume before it emits a sharp sound and a brilliant beam of blue light. It’s hard not to flinch, but you do your best to hold still. Instantly you’re enveloped, haloed in soft blue light. Your head feels fuzzy, like there’s a film over it, and then you nearly swoon as you start to shrink downwards. You’re managing to hold still quite well, you think, and you focus on praising yourself for this as the room continues to stretch up around you, once familiar walls now towering, your boyfriend now a colossus just begging to be climbed. All at once, the light stops. You take a breath inward. 

“Strider- Goodness gracious, this is crazy! Haha- You know, I was expecting it to be a little worse than this-” 

Dirk’s brows scrunch, and he bends over to pick you up. His hand is enormous- at least twice your height in length and probably more so. You excitedly hop up into his hand, and he lifts you up to his face.

“-But it didn’t hurt at all, actually, and I can’t even believe how _big_ you are!! It’s incredible, Dirk! Man, imagine eating a cheeto at this size- I’d be set for days!”

You ramble on excitedly as he takes you over to his desk and adjusts himself before setting you down atop it. You’re a little bit reluctant to get out of his hand, but you oblige him regardless. He tells you to hang tight for a moment, and then he leaves and returns with a singular cheeto. You gasp excitedly. Hell fucking yes. You stuff yourself with as much of this cheeto as you can possibly manage, and when you start to slow in your efforts, Dirk’s hand descends down upon it like some sort of fucking Monty Python animation and relinquishes it from you. For a brief moment, you’re disappointed. That dissipates, however, as you watch his lips part. He pops the rest of the snack into his mouth(you’ve barely made a dent in it), and you’re given just a tiny glimpse into the expanse of his mouth. 

Your stomach flips, excited. 

“Dirk?” You’re trying hard not to look too eager, because good heavens this is kind of embarrassing. You’re really hoping that he’s not going to think this is weird. _You_ think this is weird. 

“Could I, uh… Could I maybe have a look at your mouth?”

Dirk’s breath catches in his throat- you watch him freeze up as he processes your words. Inwardly, you cringe. Fortunately, his silence doesn’t last long. After a moment of deliberation, he murmurs “...Yeah.” 

His hand descends upon you again, and you excitedly clamber up onto it. Your heart is pounding hard in your chest. Who ever would have thought that you’d have this kind of opportunity? Dirk brings you upwards, and soon you’re staring him in the lips. He hesitates a moment, and then he opens up wide. You watch as his tongue slides up against his teeth for a moment before it pulls back to block his throat off. There’s a gush of hot air above you: he’s breathing through his nose. You wouldn’t mind either way- you’re quite used to Dirk and all of his scents, and you’re certainly familiar with his breath. Either way, you’re quite enjoying the view. You’re small enough that you can make out each individual taste bud lining his tongue. The thought of what that would feel like intrigues you. You lean forward and put a hand on his tongue.

The ground beneath you drops down suddenly, and you’re pulled away from Dirk as he snaps his jaws shut and looks quite flustered. It takes a moment for you to recover from what just happened, and then you look up at him. For a moment, you’re scared that you’ve hurt him. You know that’s not the case, though. Concerned, you look up at him.

“Whoah, Dirk, what’s the holdup? You alright?”

“Sorry,” Dirk says, clearing his throat. “I don’t want you getting hurt or making too much of a mess of yourself.”

You can’t help but laugh, cheering back up immediately. He’s such a sweetheart.

“I hardly think you’re going to hurt me, Dirk, and I’m no stranger to making a mess of myself. _You’re_ no stranger to making a mess of me, either,” you say, grinning smugly despite yourself. Dirk reddens, suddenly incapable of meeting your diminutive gaze. He rolls his eyes, trying to play off his reaction, but he looks back down at you when you speak again.

“...Would you mind too terribly if I had a closer look?”

Dirk seems to mull the request over, and his expression grows more concerned and upset by the moment. You’re pretty sure that if his face lost any more of its colour, you wouldn’t be able to tell him apart from the wall behind him. The thought of his words doing this much damage to his poor little head(heart?) is fucking hilarious- and you let him know this by laughing your ass off at him. 

“Heaven almighty, Dirk, You look like you’re about to fuckin’ lose it! You gonna be okay there, chap?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He draws in a steady breath. “ And yeah, you can, uh, have a look around. But god dammit Jake, please be fucking careful.”

You snort, feeling quite pleased with your victory. “Careful is my middle name. I’ll be fine, Dirk.”

Hesitantly, he brings you back up to mouth-level with him. You carefully place your hands on his lips- so soft, you note, and so familiar. He draws a deep breath through his nose and opens up for you. Excitement bubbles up in your chest again, and you pause only a moment before clambering in. His tongue is soft- there’s a whole lot of give to it, and you sink down against it and slide the rest of the way in. It curves up to cradle you, and the way that it bends in the middle makes it seem almost as if it’s trying to grip you. You roll, adjusting yourself, and manage to soak your entire back. Your front is soon to follow. It seems as if every position you get into just adds to the amount of moisture soaking into your clothes and skin. Maybe he thinks you’re tasty! You lift yourself up to your hands and knees so as to keep your balance while looking around, and the grooves where your fingers rest pool up thick with saliva. Your nose wrinkles, and you have to force yourself not to laugh. 

Underneath you, Dirk’s tongue is twitching about with the effort of ignoring your movements. His mouth keeps dipping slightly closed before he remembers to open it back up again. You’re admiring his tenacity when suddenly his tongue lurches, rolling you back towards his teeth as he manages an open-mouthed swallow. You watch the back of his tongue hide the back of his throat, and as it retreats you see the muscles of his throat open back up. A nose of wonder escapes you before you can stop it, and you move further in to inspect his throat further. You’re pretty sure you can get close without it being too much of a problem. His tongue is pretty sticky, after all. Some sort of vocal sound bubbles up from his throat, and the volume and closeness of it catch you off guard. You lift your head up in surprise, and smack face-first into something slimy and incredibly soft. 

Suddenly, your whole world goes dark and tight, and weakly, you recall just how touchy your boyfriend’s gag reflex is. Your body moves on its own- you only manage a split second of rational thought before panic overtakes you and forces you to try and fight your way out of your fleshy prison. You manage to jab at something, and there’s a horrible vibration that reverberates through your whole body. Dirk gags, and then he swallows. In fact, he swallows a couple of times. The sensation is like being crushed- hot, wet muscle suck you down with a frightening amount of strength, like they’ve got a gravity of their own and it’s set to the max. You can’t even manage a scream before your face, your whole head, everything is crushed and soaked and it’s so dark and tight and you can’t even _breathe_ , there’s no room to draw breath, you’re going to die- 

After what feels like an eternity of white-hot panic, you’re dropped with a wet splash into some sort of liquid- it’s hot, almost unbearably so, and it’s viscous to the point of practically being slime. Your whole head is spinning. Which way is up? It seems as if everything is upside-down, tipping and turning, and a particularly hard jolt sends the liquid you’re flailing around in sloshing up against the walls. You try to suck in a breath but pull in slime instead, and it burns and your chest burns and everything hurts, but you squeeze your eyes shut and push in every direction until finally, you find out which way is up. You push yourself out of the sludge and gasp for air, managing only a mouthful before you’re rocked up against the walls and thrown back under again. Fortunately, you know your directions this time, and it’s not hard to get up and breathe again. 

Now that you’ve oriented yourself enough to pay attention, you’re starting to notice the sounds and sensations all around you. There’s a hard, heavy thumping pounding away up above you- you surmise that this must be Dirk’s heart, hammering in panic. Oh dear, Dirk!! For a moment, you’d forgotten that this prison was, in fact, your companion, and he must be _freaking out_ right now. You focus a little bit harder and are rewarded with the gushing sound of each little gasp of breath that he takes. His lungs practically sound like a motor. There’s something in the back of your head that’s telling you to be afraid of what’s going to happen to you, but you know that you’re going to be fine and you’re much more worried about the state that your boyfriend is in.

“Dirk,” you call, amidst the noise. “Dirk?” 

You don’t think he hears you. You’re also pretty sure that he’s begun crying. Gracious, you feel awful. This was such a terrible idea. He’s going to be so cross with you when this is over with. You bring a hand up to rub his stomach, because you’re at a loss for what to do to make him feel better. You’re not left to think for too long, however. There’s a sudden gush of liquid from the ‘ceiling’ above you, and whatever it is, his stomach reacts violently to it. In the split second you’re allotted to get your bearings, you suck in a deep breath- and then your prison constricts, crushes, pushes you back upwards. 

You land with a wet splat into something warm and firm- dirk’s hand, and then bring a hand up to wipe the fluid from your face. It’s dripping from every inch of you and spilling between his fingers, and you’re momentarily shocked to find that it is bright orange. It takes you only a moment to realize what it is, though, and then you clear your throat before you speak.

“You drink way too much fucking soda.”

Dirk peers down at you, blank, pale, and then he turns over and vomits into his sink. He wretches hard a couple of times, his whole body heaving, his lips and nose and eyes all dripping quite liberally. He keeps making this weird noise, some sort of weird hiccupy kind of whine, and then you realize that he’s trying to talk.

“God, Jake-” he gasps, wretching again, “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so sorry. That shouldn’t-” another hard heave- “hrgh, shouldn’t have h-happened, I’m so sorry-”

“Hey,” you call up, voice shaky. “Hey- Christ Dirk, it’s okay. I forgive you. You obviously didn’t mean it. Heh… You’re a fucking mess, mate. Stop worrying about me and clean yourself up. Well-” 

You look down and assess yourself. You’re perfectly fine, as you had surmised you would be, but you are, to put it lightly, also a fucking mess. You smile up at him.

“Clean me up too, please.”


End file.
